The Gulls of Navarone
by Anopy
Summary: "Do the Marines ever get anything right?", asks...well...everyone. What of the Brave-hearts of G-8 and their eccentric Vice-admiral? What were they up to in their youth? And what of his mentor? And his 'friends? (Editing&Updating. Ch1-5 as of yet)
1. Johnathan, Livingstone, Seagulls

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 1** **: Johnathan, Livingstone, Seagulls**

* * *

 **Non-canon even by canon standards, inspired by the filler arc of G-8, fueled by a simple question that if Akainu really did train people would they end up in the correct path after all? He is but sooooo...extreemmme(says Kizaru).**

 **But then again, who'd actually do as he says?**

* * *

 _A blindingly hot summer day. The sun blazes and burns. In the middle of a humid jungle somewhere in the Grand Line hides a pristine white Hospital._

"Dr. Livingstone, I presume?"

"Aye. You must be Captain Johnathan?"

The proffered hand was accepted in a vice grip.

'He sure is strong for a civilian surgeon.' So thought Captain Johnathan of the Marines.

It was a scene quite common to all of eternity - the radical civilian specialist so appreciated for all the work he puts in for the World Government. The Marine branch unit that asks for a consultation. And...the target usually turns up dead within an hour after the Marines set sail. It was always the branch CP setting those unsuspecting Marines up - cover-up orders came later.

Especially now in this age of revolutionaries, it was the best tactic they used to weed the turncoats, even potential ones.

This man was 'suspected' of being one.

A nice, pleasant man. Goes about smiling mildly. A proactive surgeon. Had saved several lives and wanted to save more and really felt about it, not just from a professional viewpoint. Well, apparently.

'Suspected'? No, a confirmed target.

He'd fallen out of favor ever since he made clear his support for the ridiculous idea of providing medical assistance to the non-WG citizens. To top it all he had openly treated and argued for the rights of a few slaves of the Tenryubito.

'The fool', thought Johnathan. He was surprised they hadn't killed him outright and this charade was still to be played out. And also a little peeved that his base was the one responding. The vice-admiral didn't need to have beaten around the bush while assigning the 'mission' - Jonathan was no fool. This was a known routine. And he had acted as the tactician in the last, yes, _twelve_ actual battles.

As the doctor escorted Johnathan around, lecturing away, they passed several posters plastered across the white new walls. Procedures for injections. Smiling children and vaccine shots. Directions to the nearest ward. Contents of cabinets under them. Cross sections of the heart.

 _'One ought never, ev~ver wear one's heart on one's sle~eve.'_

A droning singsong voice - Jonathan's enormous brows furrow with rising irritation.

 _'He doesn't actually wear his heart on his sleeve you k~noww. That's all an a~ctt',_ the nail-on-wall-scratchingly slow voice whispers in his head.

Borsalino had said so about Sakazuki. But then had Sakazuki a heart, to begin with? He chuckled a little despite himself.

Dave D Livingstone turned back a bit to look at him quizzically all the while asking if they should go to the cafeteria or his office next?

Oh, he wasn't listening.

Couldn't rather.

It was so hot today.

He wanted a drink. Said so.

"How about lemonade?"

"Sounds perfect."

 _Not...'Jessica never lets me have anything but...'_

So, to the cafeteria, they headed.

All he really wanted, however, was to lie down somewhere and fall into a deep, comfy sleep. After a long, cold draught of anything unhealthy - even cola.

Looking in front of him he sees the man's back. The man is talking again. Non-stop. Looking ahead into a future he didn't have. Jonathan can just about discern where the doctor's heart should be along that sweat-drenched labcoat. He could hear it - loud and clear. Each beat so beckoning. An end to this elaborate, ridiculous play. How much would those damned cipher pols make this man suffer once they had him anyway...?

Wouldn't Sakazuki-san have killed him already?

Definitely. Considering his record and this ebullient man in front of him - he certainly would have.

Wouldn't he?

Yeah. He'd have asked the doctor to his face, "Are you a revolutionary?" and then not waiting for an answer...well, Sakazuki-san at this moment would be back on his own ship en route to Marineford and sake. Not more fruit juices and flower teas and...and liquid vegetable.

What a thought! He loved Jessica. He wasn't really running away. In fact, not just the base commander, even Sakazuki-san had ordered him here.

But just why had G8 been assigned anyhow!? They were an armed fortress - not some idling base that had too much free time. (How dare Kizaru!) Nonetheless...their orders were clear: engage and lure. No interference.

These 'popular' citizens were definitely the worst. They _had_ to die "accidentally".

God! It was hot. And they'd started walking under the direct sun now...

The doctor was still droning on and on now about the benefit of sponsors.

He'd gather no useable intel like this.

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblances to humans or animals long past is purely coincidental. Even on the animator's behalf(I assume).

 **Note :**

 ** _David Livingstone was asked the famous question by Henry Morton Stanley(originally named 'John' Rowland) and the picture of the latter for some reason brought to my mind Johnathan of G-8 when I first saw it._**

 **I came up with the name of this chapter because my childhood love for Johnathan Livingstone Seagull(JLS), the freest gull...and as the name Johnathan that serves the Marines whose symbol be the gull...is exactly what it is. While reading the Wiki page I find to my astonishment that they really named the G-8 VA after JLS! In reality, I always believed the choice was based on something else (that was me ignoring the non-canon nature of the character I realize).**

 **Well, Johnathan was named after Bach's Johnathan Livingstone Seagull(JLS) by his animator. And randomly assigned Akainu/Sakazuki as his mentor.**

 **When Oda does draw Sakazuki, he takes Bunta Sugawara for his role model. Yakuza Papers aside, Trucker Yaro is a series dearly beloved of Oda. And Sugawara's character, Momojiro Hoshi, has for a sidekick former cop turned trucker named Johnathan whose former cop job landed him with a conflict with The Borsalino-2 (Kizaru's model).**


	2. Fishes like a Cat

_The Gulls of Navarone_

 **Chapter 2: Fishes like a Cat**

* * *

 _Ages and ages ago..._

The sea was a sparkling deep blue. An enormous man with an arm in a sling sat on the harbor rocks facing the blinding overhead sun. His fishing rod beside him, his mind elsewhere. No shade, no cover, as if the insane heat was nothing to him.

Another relatively giant of a man approached him from behind. Gigantic I call them, the former would have stood a foot or three taller than the latter.

The former had no intention of standing up. Nor did he turn to face the approaching man.

He simply said, "Cut the crap."

The younger marine was left standing with his jaw gaping wide, hand half-raised, thwarted in his attempts at the customary salute.

"Report back when you've got yourself a fishing rod and a pack of bait.", came the sharp reprimand.

"Sir?", the flustered lad mumbled at last.

"I hear the kitchen's understaffed. Would you prefer that instead?", the man snarled.

"N...Yes sir. I'll be back shortly, sir."

Only when he'd gone had Sakazuki looked tiredly back at the retreating maroon-head. Training? Become his mentor? Whatever was Zephyr talking about?

While everyone eventually took someone under their wings, the old man had to be nuts. This young man oozed moral softness. What would Sakazuki teach him if he wanted to be a disgrace to the marines? He should resign!

In fact, Kong had made sure Sakazuki's crew assignment had been done carefully considering...well, mass resignation.

Yet one fine day Zephyr had called him to his office at the training dojo to tell him he'd be taking in this spineless rat to train during his suspension.

 _'Suspension...yeah, I'm under suspension!'_

The area around him started radiating heat.

 _'Hah! Damn that Kong!'_

Suspended for engaging Kaido in battle. Even Zephyr had found it funny...

 _'Damn!'_

 _'Anyway, that boy I won't de-'_

"He's a bright lad. The sort that sits back and thinks. And attacks only after careful consideration.", Zephyr continued without a pause. "He's better at leading _if_ he refuses to play his hand much."

"Senseー", Sakazuki tries interjecting.

"But he won't!", Zephyr slams his kairoseki fist on a table cracking it instany. Sakazuki doesnt notice.

'W _hat_ **do** _you want to say'_ Sakazuki thought but said nothing. Zephyr was that formidable a man.

"I saw that potential in him during training. But during field operation, he just went along too much with the crowd. Idealistic and enthusiastic, but too much so.", he finally breathes.

But continues, "And hasty - lacks patience. I like this attitude in my men but he's the sort that might start bending the rules to the point of breaking."

' _Sounds like Kuzan has a long lost brother._ ', thought Sakazuki dryly.

"A liability. That's what he'll become to his regiment."

 _'You want **me** to straighten him? Just throw him out instead. Simple.'_

"I want you to raise his potential as an asset instead."

Sakazuki smirks.

'Leave it to me.', he had told his mentor.

He actually reaffirms his conviction to the task with a casual grunt. At least the task he has in mind - getting this mini-Kuzan to leave the Marines as a trainee.

Even if this was his domain, he had no clue what to do. He'd no idea of how to teach anyway. How was he to do a thorough job of pretend-mentoring? But of one thing he was certain. They wouldn't get along for long. Not that Kuzan-like brat and he!

* * *

"Ouch..."

A _slightly_ sun-burnt young man was sitting in an infirmary, the ointment that is being applied to his red skin stinging him just a _little_ bit.

 _'What was wrong with_ _that man_ , he thought to himself as another rather sensitive spot was jabbed at by the tired nurse.

 _That_ _man_ said...he said that this was his first lesson! To know his limits before jumping into a course of action.

Johnathan doubted any battle would be fought if people just kept measuring themselves by the limit and said so to _that man_ himself. All he got in return was a look that said he was a fool. And silence.

A cold, unpleasant silence of the sort that makes you guilty. And want to come up with answers.

Well, he should've opted for kitchen duty considering he knew he was a bit sensitive to the heat. But _that_ _man_ didn't listen to even a tenth of anything he said or began to say. He simply told him to go help around in the kitchen for the time being.

 _That man_ was nuts. What occurred had nothing to with training! He was sure _that_ _man_ was just picking on him - he never intended to mentor him from the start.

The only thing Johnathan knew for certain was that they wouldn't ever get along.

* * *

He was lost. This should be his mentor's first time here as well so how could _that man_ find places so easily?

Dammit. All the passages looked the same.

He had only just begun to fathom why Navarone had never been taken down in all its history when he'd first seen the cliff walls. The inside - made it clear as still water.

Around yet another corner he bumped into something. Someone small. And more whiskers than face.

His uniform...he'd seen it before...the shipwright!

"Whatchya doin' in the docks lad?"

Eh...the docks?

"Actually I was looking for the mess.", he sheepishly says.

"Lost aintcha?"

When he nodded with relief, a roar of laughter and tales of sailors lost at _this sea_ escorted him to the dining hall.

* * *

Well, he came to the mess later than the time he'd been assigned but nobody really complained considering he was a passing outsider of sorts. They considered him just one of the many Marines that visited and lost themselves in this large maze. One who'd be soon a forgotten face.

His mentor, on the other hand, they'd NEVER be able to forget. There was something about him that terrified the G8 marines while making them feel relieved that he was on _their_ side.

He'd taken his meal at the exact assigned time and finished it down to the last pea much to the delight of the head cook Pierre. In fact, he did everything else with such exact precision that it was scary.

It was also odd how he found his way around without any help but he'd probably just memorized the entire plan of the G-8 from HQ before coming. The thought sent a collective shiver down all their spines.

 _So thorough!_

* * *

Johnathan pondered. And pondered some more. He'd help out with the kitchen from the next day. Right now, he was going wherever these winding paths were to lead him. He wasn't the sort to back down. This was a challenge. Either he let that man trample all over him or comes out unscathed - he had to win against this man.

As he came to the end of the path he internally rejoiced. He'd made it out again.

And somewhere farther out on a different set of rocks, he could see a large figure imprinted on the large moon on the horizon. He was sitting beside a long rod with a slack line and there was the outline of another fishing rod leaning against him, waiting.

* * *

 **NOTE :**

 **I sometimes suspect as Oda-sensei's old drawings make it seem** _one_ _old concept_ **of Sakazuki's with the glasses-which-should've-been-under-the-hood went to Zephyr and just maybe Zephyr could've been the man who'd actually mentored Jonathan but well...Jonathan ain't no 'hero' either. He is just an ordinary man who'd love to share his vegetables but not good meat. He'd give it up, but not really share...you know. Like he ended up doing with Luffy...**

 **Those guys. In that they love their meat too dear to not resent in sharing, well they're** _not_ **heros.**


	3. Of Gulls and Doctors

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Of Gulls and Doctors**

* * *

 _The bells were ringing. There was chaos at Navarone._

 _Something shook Johnathan._

 _An earthquake? No, this...Unheard of!_

 _Was it perhaps Shirohige?_

 _...No..._

 _...What are those shi..?..._

 _"Captain! Caaptainn~!"_

Huh?

Who was that?

He knew that voice from somewhere...Jorge...Arthur?

He awoke with a start. Though a bit hazy, he did remember instantly where he was and why he'd been sent there.

But he lay in a mess of white sheets. He was in hospital garb too. Marine style.

Over him stood an overly hysterical round man who'd broken into sobs of relief.

"So. I take it I'm back at the ship."

Though it wasn't a question, Arthur violently nodded in agreement, lost for words.

"For a while there we really thought you were gone", said a voice from far above, the enormously tall Jorge standing over his bed.

"Yeth...the monither sthopped...", came Arthur's wails.

Johnathan, presently holding the electrodes he'd detached in rolling in his slumber, absently said "Hnn.."

"Whatever happened?", he asks.

The two exchange a single glance before trying to drown the other out, yelling at the same time.

* * *

They had docked at 0500, six hours ahead of schedule owing to navigator's miscalculation on New World waters.

 _Morning. Breakfast - good, solid breakfast. Hearty, heavy. Just as he liked it._

 _Yet, Captain Jonathan is not here._

 _The crew has completed a thorough search of the ship - I repeat - the Captain is nowhere on board._

 _It is 0900 in the morning._

 _Per Marineford orders all operations to commence at 1200._

All this, the new communication officer Lenny just casually announced before cramming his mouth full of beans and ignoring the sudden tensed silence.

And then the panic began. Rather, pandemonium. No two people agreed over the 'why' of their situation.

The enormously tall Jorge was sitting ponderous and contemplating - it had been wrong of the Captain to tell the entire crew the intrinsic details of the operation. Ever so often he'd squint and resist the urge to spit and yell out the urgency of the situation - didn't they understand the Captain was in grave danger for disobeying?Unsurprisingly, Lenny was pretty preoccupied with his food and looked smug behind his round glasses.

Arthur who was never quite finished with his breakfast chimed out in his childish voice, "Shouldn't we look for him?"

Forty pairs of startled eyes silently settled on him.

-oooo-

Jonathan looks ruefully around a gray cafeteria. A single server, a nondescript woman in a starched white apron and her hair in a net stood by the grey metal doors. She seems to be looking straight at them, no at the doctor, inexpressive and yet - cold and unpleasant. As they enter, he notices the doctor's shoulders tense and pause.

The doctor profusely insists Jonathan occupy a certain chair at a certain table while he orders even though the entire hall was conspicuously empty.

Jonathan looks around perplexed - At least they could have painted this white too.

The doctor took a second too long at the counter, hesitating and measuring his steps as he once again approached Jonathan.

He wasn't wrong. The doctor was suddenly tense, his eyes darting and panic was written all across them.

This time, Jonathan resumed the friendly banter, sipping tentatively at the terribly sour, iced lemonade. If the world was spinning a while ago, the ice was splitting his head now.

Something caught the doctor's eye, its corner.

As the doctor turns his head to look straight at it, the Marine sitting across from him slumps onto the table spilling the dreadful drink all over.

* * *

Jonathan shakes his head, a little deaf from all the yelling his subordinates just briefed him with.

"That'll be it, boys. If you don't mind I'd rather have a word with Dr. Frankenstein.", Jonathan concludes.

"Wait. Doesn't he hate that name?"

"Are you still calling him that?!"

Johnathan being Johnathan, just smiles.

* * *

"Eat those vegetables, won't you?"

Victor Frankenhoff and his cropped purple hair that was usually curled into ringlets looked weary. He adored his friend the captain, but still... The man loved driving him nuts. The doctor had lost count of how many times he'd sensed trouble on his bolts - two tiny receiver sensors shaped like boltheads that he wore as a neckband.

"And if I don't?"  
"I'll tell Jessica.", says the doctor in a mock serious tone.  
"Tell her then!", he pouts like a kid.

"You're such a spoilt brat", sighs the doctor.

He observes his patient play around with his food and winces each time Jonathan clanks his fork. After a while, he finally surrenders to his curiosity.

"So will you tell me already?"

"No."

Jonathan's eyes shine mischievously - the doctor so badly wants to have the captain walk the plank. Yes, right now.

"So. I had a dream. Back to when I first met Sakazuki-san. The time we trained at Navarone and we were besieged by the stragglers of Kaido's crew. They're at level 6 in Impel Down now you see.", Jonathan says nonetheless.

The tired purple-head shook slowly and mumbled,"As random as ever aren't you?"

"Well. That was the last we needed to fire Navarone's guns."

"Let's just blame it on your mentor, shall we? If he hadn't been there..."

"I was remembering things today. Back from the training.", Jonathan continues ignoring the doctor's rant.

"Johnath..."

" _Yes, Victor_. It's relevant."

"Whatever.", the doc rolled his eyes.

"Thing is... that demon skull and horns. What're they the symbol of again?"

The doctor pauses, wary. "The beast pirates..."

"And?", Jonathan adds when he pauses.

"The Science Division uses it", a familiar voice completes.


	4. Of Monkeys and Dogs

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Of Monkeys and Dogs**

* * *

 _...Marine rookie time..._

He's suspicious. They say.

You can't trust his words. They also say.

But they never ask!

Borsalino is always a little irritated when people imply they don't trust him coz of...many reasons.

They could ask.

Not that he'd give them a straight answer.

Still...

But one fine day he met a man who just didn't care. No matter what he told him, the man would ignore him.

So, he told him between cigarettes, he'd pilfered from the rations. Told him about himself.

Perhaps the truth, perhaps a lie.

They stood on a deserted corridor on the upper section of the fortress looking out at dusk.

The man still didn't care to respond.

It irritated him so.

"What a~re you going to do~?", Borsalino asks. He tosses his finished cigarette over the ledge. Its smoke still lingers, eerily suspended between the two men.

"Nothing", is Sakazuki's pithy reply. He looks away from the strange monkey-like man _(Saru)_ and into the setting sun. The sky was lit blood red.

From the corner of his eye, Sakazuki can see the _saru_ staring at him, perhaps contemplating his response. Who cares?

Unlike the others, Sakazuki didn't need to weigh the other's motives - in fact, the thought never crossed his mind to question the monkey's motives. Back then, at least. As he had his reason for being a Marine, so must other people. And they have nothing to do with him. If they went against the Marines, however...

Far away the sea is breaking against the harbor rocks. The tide is rolling in.

If they linger around any longer, they'll be late.

A single glance, hidden by twilight - there exists something in it that one acknowledges and the other silently accepts.

* * *

... _Rising through the ranks..._

"Your left sock is a millimeter higher than the right you kno~w."

And Sakazuki bends to adjust it.

"Noo~w the right is higher."

And Sakazuki does it again.

"Le~ft"

Borsalino was getting bored - was it an hour already? (actually, a minute)

And why was Sakazuki silently adjusting his socks? He should have erupted already.

He was so oddly placid today Borsalino got chills. And no, Kuzan was not hiding anywhere around. There were no curses nor angry comments with the morning news. Sakazuki didn't yell at him for any of his usual antics - starting from arriving unannounced(as usual) to eating-off Sakazuki's food faster than he could notice to..

Waitt?

Was the man actually nervous?

Was the new admiral scared?

Something about his socks had been bugging Borsalino or a while now. Tapping his fingers against his empty glass, he thinks-really thinks for once.

Wait? There _is_ something wrong with those socks...Ah! He got it!

"Is tha~t bloo~d?", Borsalino blinks as if in surprise.

"They're red!", Sakazuki snaps back at him.

Borsalino is thrown back a little in surprise, a little by the impact. But satisfied. All is right with the world.

Borsalino sighs long, long, long.

Marineford beware. The new admiral had blood on his socks.


	5. It's Hazardous!

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 5:** **It's Hazardous!**

* * *

Across the table sat two men. One reclined at the head of a hospital bed much too small for him and the other sat on a stiff chair, cowering and with a black eye behind thin-framed spectacles.

"You seem pretty confident that you'll get off this island, eh Captain?", the latter is skeptical.

"Well, Dr. Livingstone. It would be nice if you could tell us just what was going on."

Jonathan had long ago discovered that the direct approach was usually the best.

The doctor took off his spectacles and put them on the table beside an untouched plate of vegetables.

"Well. I have no idea why they'd send the navy after me but..", says the doctor and pauses a little, hesitating.

"Go on", Jonathan nods.

"It's complicated.."

The doctor hesitates again, looks around before he resumes.

"I know my superiors were indignant because I treated those people. But I'm a doctor. I treat the sick - anybody who lives on this island - doesn't matter if they're residents or government officials or even criminals or the oppressed."

Jonathan's mustache raises a little in amusement. _'Either he is too idealistic or he is lying'_

The doctor is still looking at him as if questioning, not sure, his face calm. But his posture indicates agitation - his hand is gripping the arm tight, he is leaning forward. Pushed into a corner, he was about to lash out. ' _No._ _He is definitely an utter fool.'_

"So, it was obvious why you would be targetted; Aren't you admitting it, Doctor?", Jonathan gently states.

"No!", he ends up slamming the table with his fist, upsetting those nasty vegetables.

Johnathan is startled by the sudden sound and winces. He almost doesn't hear the doctor continue.

"I'm not the only one who thinks our experiments are out of hand. So _...why me_? The others too, sometimes refuse. Even Vegapunk..."

"Vegapunk?", Jonathan is suddenly alert.

"Well, yes. They are Vegapunk's experiments.", the doctor states as if it were obvious.

 _Vegapunk's experiments? What was this going on?' Nobody said anything about..._

"...nitially we only received a dispatch from the prisons. They were the worst of the worst. And we did our worst with them. Most were pretty calm-I guess Impel Down did that."

Here he looks at Johnathan with some undecipherable expression and just as suddenly he averts his eyes again. Both the blackened out and gray-green ones. Johnathan takes note of this.

Sighing deeply he continues, "Of late we seemed to have become the entertainment factory for the Celestial Dragons. First, it was modified prisoners, now, slaves. **It** terrifies us too at times..."

The doctor begins fiddling with his specs, the strong feelings in his unfinished sentence lingering in the air.

"And what is **it** that happens?", asks Johnathan innocently after a while.

"That I'm afraid is strictly confidential", the doctor replies without even an inch of hesitation, tapping the bridge of his spectacles nervously.

"So you want to help the sla...bond worker?", Johnathan says.

"Yes."

"Forget it..", Johnathan starts.

The doctor already seems a bit dejected.

"But..., we could let you off for now. Perhaps even be of some aid. You know Dr. Frankenhoff, I'm sure? But you have to tell us what you all do here. How else will we..."

"You say, bonded worker..", the doctor whispers absentmindedly.

Determined eyes bore into Jonathan, as the doctor warns in a low voice, "If I use the phrase you'll kill me right here, right now, Captain - it is forbidden."

Oh hell.

He'd have to tiptoe around Sakazuki-san for this one.

Totally.

No use asking favors here. This was far too big. As much as the man himself took issue with certain world government orders, the law in his eyes was absolute. Jonathan had anyway made up his mind when he agreed to take the mission that he'd see it to the end.

The doctor is smiling. Not his face, still grim, but his strange eyes. He is amused. Maybe Jonathan was wrong about him. Maybe not.

Johnathan, a little sleepy, yawns, and asks, "So. Let us begin with where we are, shall we? This is definitely no odd tropical jungle in the middle of Shinsekai."

The doctor grins...no, smirks dramatically and says,

"Welcome to Punk Hazard!"


	6. Meeting Reptiles in a Forest

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 5** **: Meeting Reptiles in a Forest**

* * *

 _Jessica's note to "someone":_ _Excerpt from an incomplete manuscript by Jorge Orielle. Who knew he wrote so different from the way he spoke. Besides, he was a Marine soldier who'd written nothing more than reports and a few letters in all his life. He found it quite difficult to write in his state too I'm sure. The handwriting was severely crooked. I found the manuscript among his sparse belongings one day._

* * *

Listen closely o esteemed audience. I tell you a tale of a long time ago. I hid this account but in my bosom for fear of the consequences. I thus put these events to the page only now when all those whom it may affect have at last passed on and there is no one left that can punish them now nor any who may suffer such punishment. I have recounted whatever I can to the best of my memory and hence set it in the form of a play. I do not wish to infer those passing thoughts of my comrades nor seek to paint them in brilliant hues so you may enjoy them. Think it not arrogant of me to put it thus bluntly but you who never knew them would never enjoy the company the way I once did. That very thought pains me no end. So forgive this dying soul and allow him to pour out his heart to you whether you be friend or foe. Suspend your logic and set free your soul. The grandline is but a place of infinite mysteries you see.

There were four men who were wandering the forest. Wandering I say but really they were out on a mission. Their Captain lay unwell and asleep in his chamber yet to recover his strength. His doctor sat by den den mushi's pulling strings from Vegapunk to Cipher Pol and entangling Headquarters in the convoluted knot. He and Livigstone had, by mutual interests, established a motive. The Marines became the guard of a man out to a secret rendezvous though omitted that he was only their base's doctor albeit he was once a famous civilian surgeon in his prime.

These four men were but hiking to the nearest centre attempting to clear the sudden confusion. There was no way this was an unauthorized mission. The Captain did not make such mistakes! But from where and whence had such summons been made? It was but an eternal mystery and one they were about to resolve. Their original orders stood altered. Their guard was up. No more laughing or joking. No songs were sung. Doctor Livingstone cooperated tremendously as well.

Lenny : "Stop!"

Jorge : "What is it now Lenny?"

L : "Did you hear that?"

Dr Livingstone : "Hear what?"

L : "Heavy breathing...like those monsters in Little Garden."

Al : "Little Garden?"

L : "Come on Al, you remember those big reptiles, all scaly and..."

Doc : "...breathing fire?"

J : "Huh? No way! Wait...Doc? What you mean breathing fire?"

Doc : "Hnn...oh nothing. Those must be dinosaurs then."

L(looking intrigued) : "Dinosaurs!?"

Doc : "Prehistoric creatures. They became extinct ages ago but then again the grandline is always full of surprises."

Al : "Err..doc? What fire-breathing creature were you talking about?"

Doc(grinning again) : "Why dragons of course!"

L : "You Mean They Exist!"

Al : "Uhh..'

Doc : "Why of course! As a matter of fact Vega..."

Al(yells hysterically) : "GUYS!"

All three turn around to see Al's large frozen form staring at two large golden orbs with black vertical slits...wait, did I just say orbs? They were too large to be orbs! (Or so I felt) The red head and enormous white fangs should complete your picture. Add to that three humans who suddenly accelerated at an impossible pace and made haste with a dumbstruck human (caught in the middle of his hymns to Vegapunk) between them into a seemingly abandoned shed. And that o reader was where our story turns itself upon its own head though none of them realized it back then.


	7. We Survived G-5

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 6 : We Survived G-5...**

* * *

The shed was stinky, dark and bleak. And the dragon had miles to go, so it chose to sleep.

Right at the damned shed's door!

And, of course, nobody had a light.

The doc gave them a long warning, telling them why not to wander around in the dark. From experience he knew something of old abandoned sheds on this island-specially now that Vegapunk was moving base and the lot were free to do as they please without being reported.

"These are things even you marines cannot handle", said he politely.

"We survived G-5 you know", Al added in a hush. "We can take anything!"

His mates nod somberly in agreement.

"So you guys are from G-5?", asks the doc slowly, not quite following.

"Uh...no, you see...", begins Al, not sure how to explain to someone outside the Marines about 'G5'.

"Ne, doc? You musta heard of G-5 too right?", asks Lenny.

He pulls a flashlight out of his pocket in the dark, the sight of which may have earned him a few curses. But it was dark.

"Well, ye...hhs"

Never ever see Lenny's face lit from below breaking through darkness. Men braver than Garp have been known to report back dead.

The doc thankfully only stepped back a little, stumbling and tripping and catching his sleeve on a small steel cabinet that fell on and bounced off Al.

"Lenny-now he's the scariest Marine around", said Al to the doc.

"You hads the Light!", yells Jorge at that exact instant.

"Dheyere loung losht tweensh", says Lenny through the light clamped between his crooked teeth ducking Jorge's fist and hauling the doc upright.

"Lemme explain!", says Al.

"Yeah right..."

"So G5, it's scarier than Lenny's face and..."

"Al, you is ruined the story again!"

"Yeah lemme tell the doc! ", cries Lenny.

"NO. I 'll say it!"

They kept swinging the flashlight between them, like a right-to-speak object and it lands for a while on the overturned cabinet.

The ear apparent soon loses himself in contemplation about _that_ which had tumbled out of the cabinet.

'They should take these back between them', he thinks.

"This...it's all so wrong", he whispers to himself, moving a little back into the shadows.

"Oi doc?"

"Are you alright!?"

They cannot see his pale face in the dark but surely they can hear his irregular breath. And his heartbeat which is the only thing he can hear. He is just grateful that their immense over-friendly concern did not seek him with that flashlight. He didn't want to know what his face looked like.

After a few deep breaths, he feels a little calm. Worry and concern is written all over their ragged, dimly lit faces.

"I'm fine", he says at last. "I'll tell you back at the harbor"

They don't question him.

'Thank God they're Marines', he thinks, grateful for their tact.

"Please tell me-so what about G5?", he asks a little stiffly and with a catch in his voice.

While Al and Lenny hover a little awkwardly, Jorge takes the flashlight pointing it at the roof so that the entire shed was dimly lit. He sits down and resting his chin on his hand looks straight at the doctor.

"G5 has Farro for Vice-Admiral. That toughest of men Farro is assigned to the worst scum employed by the Marines all of whom wreck havoc on pirates in Shinsekai."

Jorge was an oddly good story teller. With a very fake manner of speaking. Or so the doc decided for himself sliding down against a wall and seating himself cross-legged across them.


	8. Maybe

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 7 : Maybe  
**

* * *

A long fiery yawn warmed the steel door a pleasant glowing red before the lazy beating of wings indicated departure.

"Meal time", came Lenny's sing-song voice.

Livingstone felt a half-smile play on his lips. The doc normally would've laughed more maniacally than Garp. But then...

He sighed deeply and indulgently.

He felt like he knew these men from Adam. Even though he'd only gleaned so much from their stories. Still, they made one feel-at home. Or something along that line.

From the long, long story Livingstone gathered that the man he was told was a HQ Captain was in fact the Rear-Admiral directly in-charge under the Base Commander, Vice-Admiral Trevor from G8 in paradise.

Jonathan had apparently risen through the ranks like a meteor but had disappointed a lot of people by turning down a position in HQ and actually requesting a transfer to G-8 which had recently begun to slump under sleepy Trevor. Touted as a strategist of greater calibre than Sengoku, the doc saw no wrong in the idea of the world's strongest fortress being guarded by the smartest Marine. In fact by the time they were done with their tale the doc was of the opinion that Marines should spread out their abilities throughout their bases and not just accumulate he best under one roof.

He sighed deeply as he gathered the fallen sheafs and replaced them in the now upturned cabinet in order.

He shouldn't get so involved.

* * *

G-8 were well-ordered and disciplined. They belived they had 'style'. And their passions occasionally overflowed in their military cadence. That Jonathan cringed at it each and every time was irrelevant though.

Never had they imagined that their prime combat unit and sharp-shooter unit would be tearing their hairs over a simple joint military practice. After all ,they G-8 were the masters of support team tactics. They would not back down from their allies. So what if there was an abundance of rotten eggs, annoying piratey-marines and banana peels or even if their food may have been barbecued maggots.

Tomorrow was another day.

But yesterday _had_ been another day too. See how that turned out...

G-8 retired to their allotted hammocks only to jump out scratching themselves and each other like crazy. An hour earlier the G-8 rear admiral had gently hinted that they should seriously inspect where they slept. After all they had just arrived after a crazy journey - they thought.

He, being himself, totally omitted the story his having found an empty carton of itching powder in Vice-Admiral's cabin itself. Base commander Farro was unfortunately lost in his alcoholic dreams when Jonathan went to make his acquaintance. Either this job had finally taken a toll on him or...

"Rouzeetha...", came a drunken sob from the desk.

 _'A woman?'_ , Jonathan face-palmed in exasperation before recollecting his own circumstances.

"I'll be glad to make your acquaintance tomorrow."

So saying Jonathan left all the while wondering what sort of hell-raiser Sakazuki had been to have been in G-5. Though, somehow the gangstery atmosphere suited his image far better than his current clean, precise one.

But most of all just one logic failed Jonathan- _'Why would a monster like him be thrown with these army rejects?'_

* * *

In the long silence that followed their tale Al suddenly yelped up, "We survived Sakazuki too you know"

The doc by then much calmed hoped to know more. Sakazuki was the name of Jonathan's mentor-it cropped up more than he had cared to count. He slouched against the wall ignoring their bickering knowing it would eventually come.

Of what he could see Jorge and Al were at it tongs and hammers. And Lenny...was scared?!

"Ne, Lenny-kun...what's wrong?"

Lenny started suddenly and gulped visibly.

Both Al and Jorge, suddenly silent, stared intently at him.

"Oi, what is it?"

"Yeah you hads the look thens too..."

Lenny smirks a little hollowly and chewing at his lip says in an almost impossibly serious tone, "We won't a second time."

* * *

 **NOTE :** The G-5 part is in many such flashback parts. And Sakazuki...and the past.

These three marines are loosely based on Joker,Cowboy and Gomer Pyle from Full Metal Jacket. Loosely as in very loosely-like the island names of Minion, Swallow and Lubeck were Drake's ships. I mean I just realised while re-watching it last week. I subconsciously made them a little that way. But even if Sakazuki be Hartman, he'd be be the only man standing if they defied him thus.


	9. No Time

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 8 : No Time**

* * *

"Did something happen?", asks Jonathan in concern.

Dave D Livingstone and his boys returned from what was going to be a genial scout and coverup mission looking like they'd run a marathon through Alabasta and hauling treasure back. Except a regular filing cabinet obviously full couldn't be full of treasure. Or could it?

Just a while later when the crew's attention was elsewhere-some commotion about dragons, he saw the doc sneak something from the cabinet into his pocket. Jonathan decided to let that be for now.

"No", says the doc after a long pause.

 _'He's lying.'_

The doctor has a frown, an averted gaze and is chewing at his lower lip.

' _Of course he's lying Jonathan! Get your head together. What happened? Figure that out and..._ '

"There is no time", Livingstone says suddenly cutting the tense silence that had begun to form.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Ask me what you will. There's no point in holding back...", the doctor says, leaving his sentence hanging.

 _'Anymore'_ , completes Jonathan's mind, some part of the puzzle falling into place. For now he pushes that thought away.

"Tell us about yourself."

"Well... I'm Dave D Livingstone, pediatric surgeon under the World Government's payroll. I was assigned to Punk Hazard under Vegapunk's instructions at the time his works were concentrated here. The assignment had to do with the ill-effects of background-effect that were ignored for a long part till whole families started falling ill. The island still keeps full-family quarters even after such events."

And here he exhales deeply startling the room.

"Ask him about his family", whispers Victor.

"Not the right time", Jonathan mouths back.

And just then he resumes. And drones on endlessly.

At this rate they'd hardly get to ask him questions.

* * *

So you think he's realized we're his only shot at saving them?", asks Shou, the junior most of the combat unit.

"Ne, Jonathan?", asks Doc Vic turning to look him full in the face. "You think he realized the government didn't intend to keep their end of the deal with him?"

"I doubt it.", replies Jonathan with certainty, sitting stiffly upright on the cot. _Technically, wrong._

"We is Marines though. He cant trust us.", reasoned Jorge. Sometimes he really did nail stuff.

"So, it could be 'cause this is so huge, you know? It's just...unbeliveable!", adds Lenny from the corner of the infirmary.

"Maybe", replies his Vice Admiral, certain that it was only a part of the real reason.

* * *

Livingstone was a pediatric surgeon and a research enthusiast. Something that suited him well to this god-forbidden secret isle. Beautiful as it was with dense forests and peculiar fauna, it was at some level intimidating. His boyish curiosity and enthusiasm as well as his congenial nature ensured he settled in perfectly.

A little _too_ perfectly.

That experiments were carried out was a given. In perfectly controlled environments. Or so they thought. There had always been chances of background-effects from small leakage that were ignored as not significant. Till they began to manifest. They always affect children the most, susceptible as the little ones are. He spent days and nights sans sleep when he was first called on board.

Once his duties were over, and the little ones were immunized, he was put on regular duty in his little civilian hospital intended for the families. Vaccinations to regular check-ups covered, he'd be up and about exploring the island. Initially he faced much hostility and opposition but his stubborn nature usually got him his way. Also Vegapunk, who for some reason had grown fond of this man, gave him the full freedom to go and do as he pleased. And bit by bit he learned more about everything. And literally everything that should not be disclosed to a civilian surgeon.

Even the human experiments.

And in them he was eventually requested to partake. In the beginning he had no qualms as to what he did-man of science was he. Or so he thought. He began assisting at first with the data and gradually wound up as assistant surgeon. Vegapunk himself was a genius, he felt but some of his colleagues were not. Especially that Caeser who'd been around on and off a while. They'd brought him on board owing to his Gas-Gas fruit or so he'd heard. Presently both were absent from this base as they were supervising construction of a new weapons division.

Now, once Vegapunk's pet Dragon dream project was underway, the Tenryubito pitched in. The taboo Lineage Factor principle which the WG hogged for its own weaponisation was now going to be used for entertainment. What a joke! Many, he remembered were affronted. But nobody ever went against their orders. Only Vegapunk had that authority. But CP-0, if it chose, could easily bypass him and let the others handle it.

And the others, out of guilt or otherwise, began a fanatic call proclaiming their works as essential for the progress of science. Well, till any of this happened only the semi-mythical Ope-Ope no mi should've been able to achieve such 'miracles'. However the mortality rate was cent-percent. The subjects lived a maximum of four months before dying of complications. All this while Vegapunk was away. Or rather, he assumed, _was_ _kept away._

He restricted himself to the civilian hospital after an outburst protesting against excesses that surpassed human rights violations.

Jonathan quickly surmised that Cipher Pol had a plant in there somewhere. The first fanatic may have been the plant. The herd in this case _would_ follow the mass hysteria. Also, everything was being noted. Especially where it concerned the doc. The files were carefully filtered and altered before being passed onto the navy. The report was too whitewashed even for a WG one. The Marines would take full responsibility. Even before he realized it he felt himself clenching his fists in rage.

All this and more they gleaned from the doc in four hours. He detailed even procedures. Doc Vic sat a little pale in the corner. The air in the room was strained. Even though they were Marines they _wanted_ to go against the WG.

But couldn't. Jonathan knew as much and he'd already thought of a plan.

It had been the last straw on the camels back. For the doc and them-those two things were just that.

The first - the doc was approached one day by the CP0 to operate on some child slaves. To give them wings and elven ears do they could be a Tenryubito's playthings for a while. To make them mermen. To genetically make them stronger, faster. But not smarter-they wanted them dumbed. And obedient. Devil-fruit modifications too. And gigantification. That he knew was the current CP chief pushing his luck. His lackey Spandyne was so dumb he didn't measure his words at all. And just what did they think this base was? Though, maybe the doc shouldn't have lost his temper. Spandyne had a really mean ego.

The second were the files they found in the cabinet. They were dated from before Vegapunk left. Obviously it was a hidden work. And done extensively by a team. And the pictures and plans so calmly and callously contained in them. And carried out for so long, they could do nothing about it-only helplessly rage.


	10. The Beginning of Dissent

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 9 : The Beginning of Dissent**

* * *

 ** _Note :_** _The italics are Johnathan's thoughts_

* * *

**_Note 2 :_** _Rewrote most of the story to make it shorter. And not as confusing._ ** _  
_**

* * *

 _Retreat. The farce has played itself out.  
_

Sakazuki-san's voice on the den-den mushi was agitated. A week ago. When _it_ ended.

Here he was now, poor Johnathan. Sitting by the sea somewhere far from Marineford's madding crowd. Reports and hearings still due.

A cigar smoked on in the silence.

Perhaps it was an hour, perhaps more.

"I'm sorry for what they put you through"

 _ **He** was apologizing?_

When there was some more silence, an awkward question was put through:-

"So, how's Jessica?"  
Johnathan smiles a bit and finally reacts in a long while.

"Running G8 like clockwork. She's changed the menu just a little to be more steeped in vegetables."

"I see."

 _You don't. You never care what you eat. Why are you even here? It's not at all like you to..._

A gull swoops off with a starfish in its mouth.

Another awkward pause.

"Why...?", Johnathan begins.

Sakazuki sits back in resignation waiting for the obvious. Some things don't ever change.

"Why do we follow the Word Government's orders?"

No. Maybe they do change...

Sakazui's cigar almost fell off. He holds it in his hands twirling it between forefinger and thumb.

There is so much anger in that voice.

Sakazuki keeps staring at the sea unable for once to admonish such blasphemy.

"We're only their damned puppets!"', Johnathan breaks out of his calm self, at last venting all his pent up bitterness.

"Are we?" says Sakazuki blankly, mechanically, scratching his scarred ear.

" _YES!_ All we ever do is follow **their** orders! _"_

The smoke is once again disturbed as he raises the cigar to his lips. For once he won't give the correct response. He cannot. It's not the right answer to this unasked question. Besides, something buried deep in him suddenly finds a voice. Something that often pricks him every time he feels discontent with his hindered work. The Marines are employed by the World Government? Bullshit.

"Listen"

Sakazuki's tone is authoritative-no anger, no malice, no resentment - calm and rigid like him, no emotion at all.

 _This man had no guilt nor self-consciousness. All his life is but a straight path of destruction._

"Every single thing we've done as Marines, we did it of our own free will. Even if the orders were theirs what we chose to do with those orders was our choice and discretion. And _that_ is guided by our sense of justice as Marines. _"_

" _Sense of justice_?", Johnathan repeats in a hollow cynical voice.

Sakazuki sighs for a bit.

"When you tried to save them, you knew you'd keep them alive. If it had been me, I'd have put them out of their misery just as they deserved. They are criminals by the law. Kuzan would probably save them and then leave them irresponsibly. Sengoku-san...well, he'd follow the Government exactly."

The stony, peevish silence doesn't seem very mollified. Perhaps that wasn't the best way to end the statement.

"Whatever you may say of us Marines, whatever crimes you say we are made to commit - we do it for our pride. For the sake of this establishment - we maintain law and order as it is defined by the ruling government. Do you really think anything will change for long even if the government falls?"

 _Yes. It will. It will. Saul...Saul the traitor who was frozen into silence. Not the first voice of dissent. Won't be the last. You yourself told me about it - his doubt : not everything is as it was told. Our WG lies.  
_

"And thus we follow those orders exactly and without protest."

 _No. You do - you're the only one whose beliefs are absolute._

"You mean we follow them silently without protest", says Johnathan, breaking his belligerent silence at last.

Sakazuki takes a pretty long puff like a long drawn dramatic sigh.

"Why don't we begin to resist, eh?"

 _What?_

Johnathan spins around to find his mentor grinning broadly at him. Sincerely, like always. He never was too good at any expression that wasn't direct, serious and sincere. It was the reason nobody ever disbelieved him. Even when he lied.

But he was sincerely grinning. Something had to be wrong! This man wasn't asking a rhetorical question. Nor was he teasing him despite his sudden change to a light tone. It didn't suit him. At all. That evil grin and mischievous smile that ran up to his red-brown eyes, it was wrong somewhere. Very wrong.

And yet, it seemed so much more natural. Almost as if there really was another side to him. A side that was half a wolf - willing to turn upon his master unexpectedly.

His anger that had reached a boiling point suddenly felt as if it was plunged into a bath of cool water. He could feel himself resonate with happiness, a joy lined with something wicked and malicious. And that molten steel, so like magma, was forged into an iron resolve.

Johnathan grins back.

"Why not?"

* * *

The only thing he was certain about at the moment was Sakazuki reassuring him that he loved Jessica's cooking since ages and ages ago. That was a given. Even though Jonathan had never seen him show any liking to the usual food he did remember how he'd wolfed down everything at Jonathan's wedding. Besides, his two closest people respected each other even though Jessica would never approve of anyone else who had done the same as Sakazuki and said so quite often. The found their common ground in Jonathan in strange ways.

Jonathan is certain that he just dreamed up a conversation with Sakazuki-san. His dilemma was confusing.

It was a paradox really. His mentor was the one man he knew he could trust. The man was terrible at being dishonest with his allies. Or those he _deemed_ allies rather. But, he was a man incapable of the emotions Jonathan _thinks_ he saw.

Was it because of...guilt?

Jonathan's near empty room shook with laughter at the thought.

No. Sakazuki was incapable of feeling guilt or remorse or the like. He was blindly wed to his duty and had made himself the most faithful husband.

He was glad though that things turned out this way. Not everything was lost just yet.

* * *

 **Note 3 :** The stories are set in canon world with non-canon events and this chapter is set in the 2 year timeskip whereas the others from before are set a few years post Roger's execution and a year after the destruction of Ohara. (If I have the order correct that is...) So the three admirals are still vice-admirals for some time to come in them whereas...you know whats here.


	11. Admiral Kizaru

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 10** **: Admiral Kizaru**

* * *

"Ne, Borsalino-san...", Jonathan starts spacing out when he glimpses a bunch of bananas.

"Want onne~?", Borsalino offers.

"Oh. No.", he quickly rejects the fruit. And falls back into confused silence.

"Soo~...What is ittt~?"

Jonathan looks up at those glinting eyes behind the golden glasses. He still won't trust this man.

But...he _had_ to know.

"Do you think Kuzan gave Sakazuki-san a bad concussion?"

"Whhattt~?!"

Borsalino's expression is...flabbergasted? He's looking at him with a dropped jaw and wide open eyes and perfect confusion.

Uh-oh. Yesterday was definitely a dream. He shouldn't have started this conversation. If Sakazuki-san seemed _'normal'_ to Kizaru then...he probably was.

"Doesn't he seem to have...changed?", asks Jonathan sheepishly. He shouldn't have brought this up. He couldn't think of what else had changed with Sakazuki at all.

Jonathan is more startled when realization glints golden in little sparks and an excited Kizaru leaps up in his seat.

"I knowww righttt~!", he exclaims suddenly pulling himself straight and slamming the desk with both hands at the same time. Whoever named him Kizaru...got it so right.

"That beard looks stuupid! Stuuupppid! Thaat Bakainuu~!"

 _'Eh...'_ , thinks Jonathan. _'What bea...oh right. He didn't always have that beard.'_

What friends these guys were...Seriously!

"He's begun to look like Garp-san", Jonathan realizes suddenly.

"Pfft..."

Jonathan is certain Borsalino articulated each of the alphabets in slow motion before bursting into cackling laughter. Jonathan politely smiles looking as alarmed as the bodyguards who are peering through the door.

After what may have been an hour for Borsalino but was probably two minutes by the Marine wall clock, Borsalino's laughter ceases and he slumps back in chair.

The entire floor's staff is gathered at his door in curiosity and yet the man simply smiles at them and waves.

"Don't ever let him hear that, n~e Jo~nnn..."

Jonathan's own luxuriant mustache twitches in amusement. "No"

"But that's not what you meant, is it?", Borsalino asks shrewdly.

"No", Jonathan agrees,"He's using too old a pack of bait."

"Quite so...", muses Borsalino, eyes half closed.

* * *

While still musing on that 'great fight', Jonathan prepares bait. He has been studying the currents for the last couple of hours and realizes at once Marineford is done for.

 _'Sakazuki-san definitely got the idea to shift HQ over the Red Line while fishing.'_

Who knew what really went on in that head.

Punk Hazard : Admirals Akainu and Aokiji fought on Punk Hazard turf. Jonathan couldn't bring himself to stray from that thought too long.

That place held too many memories. He shakes his head a little recalling those times.

He was supposed to worry about Drake right now; supposedly.

Sakazuki-san had his focus on Bonney. (Borsalino had some good jokes on that...)

Admiral Kizaru was single-handedly dealing with the Shichibukai and cleaning out the whale tank.

They'd put off making any efforts in curbing the majority of newbies and the remainder of the worst generation.

He was concerned though - If the Strawhats made a return...nobody had plans. They were underestimating them too much at this point, leaving it to whoever wanted to take it up - as randomly as that.

So long as everything went their way, it would be their victory.

Probably.

There were far too many fish in the ocean and just not enough number of nets.

One single miscalculation and they'll lose too much.

* * *

"Soooo~"

Sakazuki looks up with a grimace to find Borsalino sitting beside him. Trust him to appear out of thin air...

"For a long, lo~ng time, we sta~red deeply into the eye of the otherrr~."

"Shuddup 'zaru. I'm busy"

He'd already returned to the papers on his desk.

Borsalino chuckles, "Jonn is sooo righ~t!"

"And youuu are so wroong...!", Sakazuki mimics, shaking his head.

"I can't believe yo~u're talking ba~ck to mee~!", Borsalino pouts.

"Well Admiral. May I remind you, your current seating in itself is insubordination."

"It's 3 in the morning slowpoke! And who~os supposed to fol~low regulationnns..."

"You."

"Noo~, Fleet Admiral sirrr, noo~!"

"What!?", says Sakazuki starting to get irritated.

"Don't e~verr, forget them that bullied you~u", Kizaru says ominously.

Sakazuki by now has put down his pen and put his head in his hands. If he could have, he'd be shrieking right now.

Why was Borsalino behaving this way tonight?

And just why was he himself...also?

The past few days were too much, maybe.

"Fine...", he sighs at last. "What do you want?"

"Ohh~! Yo~u kno~w wha~t!", Borsalino beams at him.

 _'No I don't want to have known_ ', thinks Sakazuki, deciding not to say it.

"Want a light?", he says instead and almost facepalms when Borsalino starts laughing.

 _'Why the hell did I say that?'_

He lights his cigar in the meanwhile and pushes the papers out of reach. Just in time as Borsalino puts up his feet on 'his' desk.

"Its ni~ce having a human lighterr~, ne Bakazuukii~?"

No. He won't respond. Certainly not.

They smoke for a while in silence before Borsalino straightens up suddenly.

 _'That's surprising-he never...Oh.'_

Borsalino reaches out across the desk to pick up a photoframe. It was taken at Marineford. He just...always had it on his table. He wouldn't just swap it out for...habit's sake. It was a little random and he'd long forgotten the occasion - John Giant, Saul, Ronse, Lacroix, Doberman, Onigumo, Dalmatian, Momonga, Strawberry, Borsalino, himself, Otsuru-san, Garp and even Kuzan. And Zephyr sensei.

At whom he knows Borsalino is looking even though he cannot tell from the opaqued glasses.

"Are you ok?", he asks the man who'd had to kill Zephyr.

"We ne~ver really got alo~ng you kno~w. Me and himmm~..."

Sakazuki impulsively pats him on the back and then almost draws back.

"See~e!?"

"I can't...", Sakazuki replies simply.

Borsalino looks a little troubled before continuing, "Jo~n seemed perplexed by ho~w you'd cha~nged. Yo~u must have said so~mething, nne~?"

Sakazuki doesn't reply. He cannot trust Borsalino in this one.

"Wel~l...you _have_ changeddd.", Borsalino emphasizes. "So. Did Ku~zan hit youu~ on the he~ad?"

"Eh?! Where'd that come from bastard!?"

 _'Kuzan'..not good. He was seeing red._

"Oh...no~oo. You're still Bakazuuu~ki."

After a tense silence, Sakazuki suddenly says, "The new head of CP-0 is a greenhorn."

"Luc~ci...", Borsalino mumbles absentmindedly.

 _'That brat!'_

Ok, his blood pressure was shooting sky high.

Sakazuki knows what they both meant. He was not acting like himself before. That ends right now.

"That damned _thing_ thinks he can order me around! Can you believe him?!", he practically yells.

The cigar has completely vaporized and Borsalino looks a little relieved, a little disappointed.

His mind, as Sakazuki correctly guesses, was elsewhere.

"How co~uld you and Kuzan mes~s up such a simple mis~sionn?"


	12. Uncertain Justice

_The Gulls of Navarone_

* * *

 **Chapter 11** **: Uncertain Justice  
**

* * *

"You always take Kuzan's side!"

Borsalino opens his mouth but can't find the words. Well, truth be told - he _did_ always take Kuzan's side.

He'd known Sakazuki too long. Bullied him as long.

Bullied, not teased as he often reminds himself. His justice was uncertain. _Sooo_..., he decided it was the polar opposite of Sakazuki's thorough justice.

 _But._

Sakazuki decided to ignore him after a while and began to pick on Kuzan. Whom Borsalino decided to defend.

Was he glad people thought Saka respects him?

Nope.

Did he defend Kuzan because he was thought he was a good little boy?

Of course!

And no.

Because mostly, he just felt _sooo_ jealous.

* * *

People change.

People remain the same.

The Marines...oh well. They're liars through and through. Don't make the mistake of trusting them.

* * *

It was a week. A week of anticipation. And nail-biting tension.

Who'd win?

Aokiji or Akainu?

Akainu or Aokiji?

Who?

Which one?

Why not Kizaru?

Kizaru lets out a long drawn groan in his office every time he catches that. It had to be those two, didn't the HQ know about his-Oh, no. No, they're much too green still.

Besides, he'd be boss over the fleet admiral in either case. Those two weren't ever going to dare bossing him around.

But...if he had to pick?

He'd want Aokiji.

Why?

Because if Sakazuki won, Kuzan would surely be dead.

Or no.

Akainu.

Because...well. No. But, yeah. There was still a slight chance that Saka would be the dead one coz how else would Kuzan win?

But...no. Aokiji was not as crazy. And he didn't really like absolutisms...

But Akainu would whip HQ in shape.

Or maybe...

See?

Uncertain justice!

Yes, yes. It wasn't so much as he'd declined as...he couldn't really decide. After all, it would no longer be his little easy going Marine life.

But.

The matter wasn't really supposed to be settled this way. A fight was so...crude!

It all began when Sakazuki started snapping and finding faults with Kuzan's idea of how to deal with the level 6 escapees.

Or, no.

It probably began the previous night when he, Borsalino mixed up Kuzan's Sherry and Saka's Sake for laughs. How was he to know they'd start a yelling contest with matters from over 20 years ago.

Or was it 30?

Who cares.

Two Admirals were dueling for 'the' post.

And he was opening his tenth carton of cigarettes, sick with apprehension. Sengoku told him to let them be but, just how could he?

And try to refrain as he might, he wanted to interfere. After all, nobody needed to tell him where Punk Hazard was-he knew the way.

He would be gone and back with the speed of light-the Tenryuubito could do without any admiral for one day.


End file.
